Gale's Guide to Hunting and Fishing
by Solaryllis
Summary: Post-Mockingjay AU. Gale and Madge go camping in District 2 after the war. Gale/Madge.
1. Lesson 1

**Title:** Gale's Guide to Hunting and Fishing

**Summary:** Post-_Mockingjay_ AU. Gale and Madge go camping in District 2 after the war. Gale/Madge.

**Rating/Warnings:** Upper T. Fluff warning.

**Disclaimer:** Just borrowing SC's characters and letting them be happier.

**Author's Note:** Mini-story set after my multi-chapter fic "On What Grounds," although it's not necessary to have read that; I tried to write this as a standalone piece. (For background: AU where Madge survived. Gale and Madge found each other after the war in District 2 and are in a relationship.) Title inspired by Melissa Bank's book, _The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing_.

This is something I wrote last November that I've been meaning to polish and post, but life intervened and I don't have much time for writing anymore. I miss it, though, and wanted to at least get this story up. There are five parts, which I'll be posting in pretty quick succession.

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**Gale's Guide to Hunting and Fishing**

**Lesson #1: Recruit a Partner**

**Or, How to Persuade Your Girlfriend to Go Camping**

He knew by now that Madge was not a morning person. When they stayed at his place, he could at least do other things around the house while he waited for her to wake up (on the mornings when he didn't stay in bed to wake her up, which admittedly happened frequently; she was irresistible and he didn't get to see her often enough). This morning, for example, he was fixing the zipper on his sleeping bag. Blue fabric was strewn across the kitchen table in front of him, a sea of nylon and down "guaranteed," according to the salesperson, to keep him warm even on cold autumn nights in District 2's mountain air. Well. He'd see about that.

The sound of Madge's bare feet on the carpet in the hallway caused him to look up from his work. Hair still tousled from sleeping, she was wearing one of his T-shirts and a bright smile. Within seconds she crossed the room to his side and kissed his cheek with an exaggeratedly loud smack.

"Morning, Sunshine!"

He ignored the "Sunshine" nonsense and automatically snaked his arm around her waist as he showed her what a _real_ morning kiss should be. When he released her he added, "There's coffee already."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you," Madge said with a wink as she pulled away and poured herself a cup.

He pointed to a plate on the counter. "And my mom and Posy dropped off those muffins yesterday. Posy's learning to bake."

Madge's eyes widened at the sight of the fluffy mounds oozing fresh blueberries. "I knew there was a reason I loved them, too." She reached for a muffin and took a bite. "Mmmm, delicious. These must be the berries Vick's been toiling over in that garden."

So far, so good. Still nibbling on her muffin, Madge moved back toward him so he could pull her onto his lap as he worked on the sleeping bag. Neither of them believed in wasting two chairs when one would do. Madge's bare legs were warm on his and he took the opportunity to squeeze her appreciatively. He loved these moments, when it seemed natural to see her more than just on weekends. These mornings were a glimpse of the future, to a time when Madge finished up her conspiracy investigation and gave up her apartment in the Capitol so they could move to the property on the mountain outside District 2's old borders. Until then, they made the most of the few moments they could cobble together.

He went back to work on the zipper, but could sense Madge studying the maps he'd left scattered on the table below the sleeping bag. He'd been counting on that; she was physically unable to restrain herself from snooping.

"Is this that new lake you were talking about?" she asked, pointing to a blue splotch on the nearest map.

Bingo. She got it. He'd planted the seed by mentioning the lake on the phone to her a couple of days ago, suggesting they hike to it together. The need for the trip was more urgent now, though he wanted to avoid mentioning why.

"Yeah," he said, still focused on the sleeping bag zipper. "I thought we could go today."

He felt her nodding. "Sure. The lake sounds pretty." They usually spent their weekends in District 2 together going on day hikes in the mountains, visiting his family or her aunt and uncle in their nearby village, or attending various concerts, lectures and political events. Gale by far preferred anything but the political events, which usually required wearing fancy clothes and dealing with suck-ups and the self-important blowhards they were sucking up to. The concerts and lectures were okay, but Madge liked them more than he did—she was endlessly curious about new intellectuals and performers emerging in the post-war freedom. To Gale it was time wasted indoors when he could be outside.

"Gale?" There it was. He paused his work on the sleeping bag in anticipation of the question he knew she was about to ask. "How far is that lake from the road?" Madge held her finger and thumb between the road and the lake, and then compared that length to the map's legend. "It looks like . . . six or seven miles?"

More like ten, and over some pretty steep terrain. But that might scare her off. "It's a decent distance," he allowed, and then dropped the sleeping bag entirely so he could wrap his arms around her waist. Lowering his voice, he spoke softly into her ear in the way she usually couldn't resist. "But I promise it will be worth it." He pushed away the hair along her neck and gently kissed the smooth skin below her ear, causing her to shiver and unconsciously lean back into his chest.

But then she pulled herself toward the table again for a closer look at the map. "Wait—won't getting there and back be too much for one day? We missed getting an early start."

"I thought we'd camp overnight," he said casually. Deliberately. "We'll come back tomorrow."

Despite his nonchalance, he felt Madge tense up. Ever since they'd gotten stuck in the forest overnight when they thought hostile, armed thugs were pursuing them, she had found excuses to avoid overnight camping trips. She was fine on day hikes—enjoyed the scenery, happily explored the surrounding areas with him, and could even keep up with his pace—but she would get anxious whenever they stayed out past sundown.

He shifted her on his lap so he could see her face and switched to a more serious tone. "Madge. It's important to me."

She bit her lip and watched him. In a small voice she said, "Can't we stay here tonight?"

"It's already fall. In a few weeks it will be too cold to camp anymore . . . "

Madge seemed to brighten at that, which made him reconsider his approach. He tried again. "The thing is, my family doesn't know how to hunt—"

"Neither do I," Madge inserted defensively. She had a tendency to volunteer examples of how she was different from Katniss.

"I know, Madge," he said pointedly. Then he continued. "When we lived in 12, I was going to teach the kids when they were older, but here I barely know anything about the terrain or the animals."

"You'll learn," Madge said, touching his cheek as she spoke. "Every time we go for a hike, it seems like you know twice as much as the last time."

He nodded. "I'm learning, but I want them to learn, too. And you."

She seemed caught off guard and shot him a confused look. "I thought . . . hunting was going to be something you did with them . . . without me. A family thing."

"You are family." It would be formal soon enough, and in the meantime they all already considered her a Hawthorne. Madge's eyes got watery and she suddenly leaned in to kiss him. He could feel her trying to pull him past the point of no return, but as soon as he realized her strategy he pulled away.

"I still want to go camping tonight," he said firmly.

Madge exhaled testily through her nostrils. "I _really_ think we could have a better time here." To emphasize her point, she reached under his shirt and started to run her hands up his chest.

To his surprise, he found himself jumping out of the chair. He hadn't expected her to use his own tricks against him. In the back of his mind, he was proud of her for stooping to his level. But he had more important concerns at the moment.

"Wilkins and his whole stupid alliance blocked the national vote again yesterday!" he blurted.

Madge froze in recognition of the significance of the news. He hadn't had a chance to tell her when she got into town last night because, well, talking became a lesser priority whenever they first saw each other after any kind of separation.

"They don't think the wealthier districts are getting a fair shake and should have more delegates in the national assembly," he explained. It was the same argument those jerks always raised, but it seemed to be getting more traction lately, probably because without travel restrictions more citizens were immigrating to the wealthier districts for employment. With the increased populations, those districts were developing even more political clout.

"The vote _has_ to go forward," Madge said slowly, processing what he'd told her.

"Believe me, I know. But holding a vote and losing would be a huge setback, which those jerks are fully aware of. They're using it for leverage. Paylor's meeting with their whole little gang this weekend to work out a deal." He thought Paylor would be able to fix the mess, but the fact that the vote on the constitution had been derailed—again—made him uneasy. "Everything could go to hell again, Madge. Fall apart. Leave us in chaos."

"It could," she said skeptically, "but it doesn't seem like it will. At least, not anytime soon. There are too many good people working together on these things. People like you, Gale."

He flinched at the reminder that she thought he was good—he wasn't and was trying to make up for that with his current job—but the important issue right now was that there were no guarantees any of the rebuilding efforts would succeed. Madge had to understand that. Stepping toward her, he grasped her shoulders. "Madge, before Katniss and Peeta were reaped, wouldn't you have said that it would have been impossible to get rid of the Capitol? But look at us now. _Anything_ can happen. Good or bad. What if there's another war? Another Snow? Another Coin?"

Madge didn't respond right away, but after a few seconds she squinted at him. "What does this have to do with going camping tonight?"

"I want you and my family to be able to survive off the land if you need to. If you and I go this weekend, I can teach you some basics and then we can show the others next weekend. Before the weather gets too bad."

Madge frowned as though he wasn't making sense. "But we have you, Gale. We don't need to know as much as you do."

"What if something happens to me?" he demanded. "What if we have kids and I die and you have to escape and they're depending on you to keep them alive but you don't know how—"

"Gale." She put her hand on his arm to silence him. He was embarrassed that his voice had grown so tight with angry anxiety but he held her gaze so she understood how serious he was about this.

Madge watched him for a few moments, and then with a sigh looked back down at the map on the table and took a deep breath. "Fine. We'd better get going."

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**A/N:** This will be 5 chapters. I'll get the next one up soon!


	2. Lesson 2

**Author's Note:** I am SO sorry about the delay in continuing this story! It turns out I had terrible timing in starting to post, though I didn't know it at the time. (Some medical stuff in my family that became overwhelming, and now hopefully is mostly resolved though still makes it hard for me to get online much.) Thanks for being patient, and thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! I was happy to see how much interest there is, although I also feel bad because this is just a short, little fluffy piece that really didn't need to be dragged out this long. :/ Sorry! Like the old saying "my eyes are bigger than my stomach," when it comes to fanfic I suffer from "my goals are bigger than my available time." (Even for something as short as this. Sad, I know.)

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**Lesson #2: Set Up Camp Near a Water Source**

**Or, How to Fish**

Despite their late start, Gale got them to the unnamed lake before sunset. It meant hiking at a pace a little faster than "leisurely," but he figured it was all right; Madge was in good shape and he put the heaviest gear in his own backpack. Their conversation consisted primarily of him instructing her about various plant species that were edible or otherwise useful for survival. Madge diligently took notes in her little spy notebook, satisfying him that she was taking the excursion seriously. He could tell she wasn't having as much fun as they usually did on their more relaxed trips, but at least she wasn't complaining.

They reached the lake as the shadows were growing longer, though the day was still bright and warm. "Check out this color," he said as he gestured to the water and unhitched his backpack. The lake's vibrant aquamarine hue had something to do with the types of minerals in the source stream. It was unlike anything he'd encountered before, which was part of why he'd wanted Madge to see it.

Madge glanced disinterestedly at the lake as she shrugged off her backpack. "So. Survival. What do we need to do?"

He wasn't sure he liked her tone. Maybe she needed a snack. He tossed her some dried fruit, but Madge set the bag aside and instead dropped to the ground to unlace her hiking boots. Fine. She could decide if she was hungry or not.

"Well," he said, scanning the immediate vicinity, "First, we need a campsite." He pointed to an area along the lake's shoreline. "There's a flat spot over there for the tent, under those trees. See how it's not as rocky? But still close enough to the lake that we won't have to haul our water very far for cooking. We'll also need to purify some water and start a fire..." Madge's head bobbed up at the mention of fire—she was still uneasy around fires after the bombing of 12. "I'll do all that if you put up the tent," Gale finished smoothly, not wanting to make a big deal about the fire.

Dragging her backpack, Madge followed him to the prospective campsite, where he gave her the tent and went over how to assemble it. She nodded impatiently and shooed him away so he left her with everything and went in search of kindling for a fire.

Things were going pretty well, he thought to himself as he located small, dry sticks amongst the trees lining the lake. When he had first been stationed in District 2 at the end of the war, the idea of hunting or even walking through a forest again had been out of the question. Katniss hated him—for good reason—and survival meant doing whatever he could to forget that bomb and the way Katniss had looked at him when she asked if it was his. No forests, no reminders of Katniss, nothing. He'd thrown himself into soldiering. He also didn't think he deserved to get away from the battle-scarred stone-and-concrete scenery of District 2.

Madge reappearing in his life didn't change any of that at first. She was a supernova: bright and amazing, and also overwhelming, considering how determined he'd been to punish himself. But she'd snuck her way into his life in District 12 and managed a repeat performance in District 2. Slowly, he found a way to get out of bed each morning. He started to take Madge on hikes, first out of necessity—investigating corrupt schemes—and later as something fun and an escape from being cooped up in meetings all day at work. When his job duties shifted to include conducting surveys of new land areas, he was actually grateful.

The ghost of Katniss—the old Katniss he remembered, growing up in District 12—still found him sometimes. Usually after he noticed the slight twitching of leaves in his peripheral vision, signaling that game was nearby; he'd have to stop himself from attempting to make eye contact with her to synchronize their approach. She wasn't there and wouldn't look at him if she were. But the mountains and forests surrounding District 2, punctuated by sharp peaks and steep inclines and unfamiliar species, were so different from the forest outside 12 that he found he could explore without ruminating too obsessively on Katniss and all their old hunting trips together in 12 and how irreversibly wrong he'd been during the war.

Most of the time. It was harder when he was by himself.

By the time he returned to the lakeside campsite with the kindling, he could see he'd made a mistake in leaving Madge in charge of the tent. Even from a distance it was obvious she was in a foul mood. She was sitting on a log and scowling at him, the tent a pile of poles and tangled orange nylon at her feet.

"I _hate_ this thing," she fumed as he approached. "The poles don't match up with the fabric where they're supposed to!"

He knelt to unload the kindling, determined to tread carefully. Angry red splotches glowed on Madge's cheeks, but he figured it wasn't a good time to mention how cute she looked when she got worked up.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Madge picked up the tent and flung it farther away.

Gale wasn't sure what was so confusing; he'd put the tent together easily on his first trip with it. "Is there a piece missing?" He moved over to the tent and pawed through the pile of poles, stakes, and cloth to check.

"I wouldn't last five seconds in the forest without you, Gale," she continued in the same accusatory tone. "So you might as well just break up with me now. Our kids will die if they have to depend on me if the government falls apart—"

"Hey!" He abandoned the tent and crossed to where Madge was ranting on the log. She had her arms wrapped around her legs and a fierce expression on her face, which left her looking like an angry ball of frustration. "Madge. I want you to learn this stuff and _I'm going to teach you_—it doesn't happen instantly. So calm down—"

"I'm useless! And something is wrong with my feet and _I hate that tent_!"

He noticed that she'd taken off her boots and put on flip-flops. Her feet looked a little swollen. Before she could stop him, he scooped her up.

"What are you doing?" she squawked, squirming in his arms.

Undeterred, he carried her toward the lake. "Your feet are probably sore from being in those boots for so long. Conveniently, we have a nice, cold lake right here."

"Yeah. _Cold_," Madge huffed.

"You'll like it," he promised, setting her down at the lake's edge and quickly unlacing his own boots. Madge kicked off her flip-flops and ventured tentatively into the water. To his relief, she waded knee-deep.

"It does feel good," she admitted. She eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you were going to throw me in."

"Smarter than that," he said with a grin as he waded out to join her. "Survival tip: if someone's already pissed off at you, don't chuck them into a lake. C'mere." He reached for her shoulders so he could massage them, hoping he could drain her hostility away. Her eyes closed and she leaned forward into his chest, her head dropping slightly. He kneaded her muscles and let her relax for a few minutes before speaking again. "If you wanted to teach me piano, would you expect me to know everything after the first lesson?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed. "But you made this trip out to be so urgent and important, and you just sprung it on me..."

He sighed at his error. He'd meant to get his way, but not at the expense of freaking her out. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. There aren't many weekends of good weather left in the season, and that vote postponement got me worried..." He stopped massaging her shoulders and thought back to how he'd panicked when she'd resisted the trip. Madge looked up at him and seemed to be waiting for him to keep talking so he tried to explain. "Madge, if it came down to living like we did under Snow or taking off into the forest, I'd go for the forest. In a heartbeat. And that means making sure you all could get by even if I'm not around."

She looked down at their submerged feet and wiggled her toes deeper into the lakebed. A cloud of silty mud ballooned upward like the plume from a bomb. "I get it, Gale. It just seems... extreme. You've been so invested in rebuilding the country since the war ended. Would you really walk away from it all? A lot of people are depending on you."

It hadn't occurred to him that she might be upset at the prospect of him giving up on the rebuilding efforts. "I'd fight for as long as I could," he said. "But if things were bad enough, yes, I'd want us to leave." He would always choose his family over strangers. And he needed to make sure going off the grid it was at least a possibility. Being trapped in District 12 without options had taught him that.

"But, it's a worst case scenario," he added, starting to see that he _might_ have overreacted or been overly ambitious with his timeline by insisting on taking this trip this weekend. He wondered if being cooped up in so many infuriating meetings with jerks each week had affected his judgment. Standing in the lake, surrounded by all the lush refuge the forest had to offer, already left him calmer. Even the air felt lighter, more optimistic. Why couldn't all the stupid committees he sat on hold their meetings outside?

Madge also glanced around them at the lake and the forest and cliffs encircling it. "And why did we have to come so far? Were you trying to trick me into an overnight trip?"

"I wouldn't say _trick_," he hedged, though he supposed he could have been more direct with her. "I really did want to show you this lake. And the hunting's better out here. The game get scared away by all the new construction closer to the district."

Madge didn't seem reassured. "So, you're saying there are _more_ wild animals here? Just waiting in the bushes to attack us?"

He smiled. "You could think of it the other way around; we'll be the ones doing the hunting."

"I _could_, but I won't," she muttered. Then she stepped away from him and reached into the water to splash her legs. He realized she was trying to wash the trail dust off.

"Good idea," he said, pulling his hiking shirt over his head in one motion and tossing it to the shore.

That got her attention. Madge eyed his chest appreciatively, and a smile slowly snuck onto her face. "Going swimming?"

"Sure." He pulled her to him and started lifting her own shirt up. "And so are you."

"No way. This water is too cold." Madge looked at the lake distastefully.

"You'll get used to it. And conveniently you have your own personal swimming buddy right here to keep you warm."

She let him pull her shirt off, but crossed her arms over her bra and continued to eye the lake with disapproval while he threw her shirt to the shore. He drew her into his arms and leaned down to kiss her until she realized she didn't need to worry about being cold with the type of swimming he had in mind. When her arms twined around his neck, he started to steer them into deeper water. During the dusty, overheated trek up the mountain to the lake he'd spent a lot of time imagining this moment and now it was here. Even better, Madge's hands started to roam over his chest down to his waistline...

Suddenly he arched backwards and sucked in his breath. Icy water was running down his spine.

Madge watched him with a smug expression and he noticed that her arms were tellingly aloft. "The water _is_ cold, isn't it?" she asked. She'd scooped handfuls of lake to pour on him. Typical sneaky Madge maneuver.

He shook the water off and caught his breath. "_Yeah, it's cold._ Which is why you either ease into it or jump in all at once, not dump it over someone's head—"

He was cut off by a cascade of water hitting his chest and face. That little weasel had splashed him!

Once he wiped the water out of his eyes, he saw Madge had moved a safe distance away from him. "That was for tricking me," she called.

He started wading towards her. "Fair enough," he said evenly as he approached. No point belaboring the tricking/not-tricking issue.

Madge took a step backwards, nervously watching as he drew closer. "Gale. How about we just rinse the dust off ourselves now and get the camp ready."

"Let's not." It was too late for diplomacy. He kept moving toward her.

"Gale," she started in a warning tone, but it was too late. He was at her side and picked her up again. She immediately started wriggling. "Gale! You said you weren't going to throw me in!"

"Well, I tried the get-used-to-it slowly approach but you didn't go for it. So now it's all-at-once."

Madge started kicking and splashing up a storm. But he could also feel her laughing. "You're horrible!"

"I am," he agreed, unceremoniously dropping her at that very moment. They were still in water only a few feet deep, so even though Madge fell into the water her head didn't go under. Which left her free to yell at him.

Only she didn't. She spluttered and wiped the water from her eyes, then glared up at him with. He felt a flutter of worry. Had he gone too far? He could usually tell with her, but she was probably tired, hungry, and now drenched in cold lake water.

"Madge, are you okay—"

She hooked her leg around his, destabilizing him so he fell backward into the lake with a thundering splash. He was so relieved to see the devious smile on her face that he leaned his head back and laughed. Above him the sky was clear, decorated only with wispy clouds starting to turn pink as the sun sank behind the mountains. He felt freer than he'd been all week, he was with Madge, and she wasn't upset with him. He _did_ know her well enough to know she could take being tossed in a lake. Of course he did.

Seconds later Madge crawled through the water and leaned over him. "So. Do I win?"

She did. But so did he because he had her. He couldn't bring himself to say anything that cheesy though so instead of answering, he sat up to touch her cheek and soak in looking at her. She seemed to sense the subtle shift in his mood because the teasing glint in her eyes was replaced by that soft look she tended to get right before they kissed. It didn't take him long to pull her against his chest and kiss her with everything he had. Madge matched his enthusiasm and soon her hands were in his hair, which was his signal to start unbuttoning her shorts.

Madge made an adorable sighing noise that he promptly filed into his mental library of memories to be recalled later during boring meetings at work. Then he realized she was trying to work up the will power to talk, not sighing, so he paused to see what she wanted.

"Dinner," she said, trying to catch her breath but still trailing kisses down his chin. "You said we were going to hunt something for dinner. Or fish?"

He glanced at the horizon, where the sun wasn't far from sinking entirely from sight. There wasn't much daylight left and they could either use it to rustle up nourishment or stay in the lake. It wasn't even a choice.

"No-time-to-set-the-snares-and-we-already-scared- all-the-fish-away," he managed to get out. Then he grinned at her. "And I already caught the best thing in this lake anyway."

"Oh, _you_ did, did you?" Madge laughed as she got to work on his belt buckle. Under other circumstances he might have quibbled with her about who caught who, but he was done talking. They'd figure out dinner later. For now he was glad she understood the more pressing lesson of why it was so important to set up camp near water.

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**A/N:** Slackers. I am shocked, SHOCKED I TELL YOU, that they're procrastinating their survival lessons.


	3. Lesson 3

**Lesson #3: How to Use Bait**

**Or, Always Have a Backup Plan **

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Frowning, Gale knelt over the fire and stirred the thin soup. He hadn't planned on having to dine on this dehydrated pseudo-food he'd only brought for emergencies. The emergencies were supposed to be things like getting injured or caught in a snowstorm, not running out of time to set your snares or go fishing because you were messing around in a lake with your girlfriend. Wasn't he supposed to be teaching Madge how to hunt?

On the other hand: worth it. And they still had tomorrow.

He stood and looked into the trees to check on Madge. She'd volunteered to retrieve more firewood while he started the fire and prepared their sorry excuse of a dinner. Madge's eagerness for the chore confirmed his suspicion that she wanted to avoid the campfire and the painful memories of 12's bombing it might trigger. But there was only so long she could stay away.

Through the darkness he saw her hovering at the edge of the tree line, not venturing more than a few trees deep into the forest, arms filled with a motley collection of sticks and fallen branches. Her hair was still wet, dangling in loose waves into the collar of a jacket that didn't look thick enough to keep away the chill in the air, though she didn't appear to be bothered. She seemed intent on her task, delicately kneeling to pick up a large branch.

Suddenly she jolted upright again, frozen as she peered into the darkness. She must have heard something. Gale tensed, ready to spring into action. When Madge hastily took several steps backwards away from the trees, he leapt to his feet, grabbed his gun, and reached her side in seconds.

Blinking in surprise to see him standing next to her, Madge pointed into the undergrowth. "I think there's an animal," she whispered. "It sounds… _huge._"

Gale felt his pulse speed up. Maybe they _would_ actually get to dine on fresh meat tonight. He scanned the shadows for signs of disturbance.

Madge clasped his arm and spoke under her breath. "What if it's a flesh eater?"

"No such thing," Gale said quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the underbrush and listening carefully for any sounds of movement. "That was just Capitol propaganda to keep us inside the fences." He glanced back at Madge and added for her benefit, "We found the files for the disinformation program."

Madge accepted his explanation—of course; she was a sucker for paperwork—and immediately asked, "Could it be a bear?"

If only. No matter how hard he looked he had yet to see a bear on his trips, even in the remote areas he had to visit for work. "Maybe," he said eagerly as he took a step forward so he could check for tracks.

"No!" Madge hissed from behind him. "Don't go in there! It could hurt you!"

Her outburst triggered a pronounced rustling of leaves in the underbrush. Through the branches Gale saw the outline of a deer, lifting its head to assess the threat he and Madge posed. In the dim light cast by the distant campfire, he could see the deer's eyes glinting in their direction.

Madge must have seen the deer as well because she gasped in surprise and said "Oh!" loudly enough that it hopped out of sight in two bounds. So much for that. Gale couldn't blame it for deciding to forage elsewhere, though he was disappointed at missing out on such a perfect opportunity. How often does dinner wander up to your campsite? Right when you're ready to eat? He watched the trees for any signs of the deer's friends, but didn't see anything.

"Is it gone?" Madge called.

"Yeah." He turned around. Madge's eyes were wide and she clutched her disordered pile of firewood to her chest like a shield. "Here, I'll take that," he said, gathering the wood from her arms. "It was just a doe looking for food. Deer are harmless. And delicious," he added when his stomach growled. He would never forget the glorious venison feast his family had enjoyed after he and Katniss took down the deer that bought Prim's goat.

Squinting into the darkness, Madge watched the area where the deer had been. "Is that… are we going to hunt those?"

Gale looked longingly back into the woods. "Not on this trip," he had to admit now that he could think it through. "Too much meat for you and me tonight, and too much weight to haul all the way back home from here." It still felt strange to acknowledge that he didn't necessarily _need_ to hunt anymore. Back in the old days, he and Katniss would never have let that deer get away. Not a chance. But the idea of slaying the doe tonight and wasting that much meat was out of the question.

Madge still seemed rattled. "Have you hunted a deer before?"

He nodded curtly. "In 12." She was straying into Katniss territory, so he tried to steer her attention back to the present. "You and I will start smaller. Maybe marmots. I saw a few on the hike up. Tomorrow. We'll wake up before sunrise and I promise we'll have fresh meat for breakfast."

Biting her lip, for a moment Madge seemed like she might say something but then she turned to watch the forest. It was still now, apart from the occasional gentle fluttering of leaves in the breeze. "_Are_ there bears out here?" she asked. "What about mutts from Hunger Games? I heard they'd been released from the research labs during the war."

"I've never seen bears," Gale said. "Or mutts. Or tracks for any animals I couldn't identify." He saw she wasn't fully reassured and added in a softer tone, "Madge, I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think it was safe."

"I know," she said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket and looking up at him. "But I think we have different ideas of safe." She wrinkled her nose. "You sounded like you were _hoping_ it was a bear."

He smiled. Totally true. "Well, I haven't seen any out here yet." How could he hunt them later if he'd never even observed them? He needed to see them in their habitat, learn how they differed from the bears outside 12. He shifted the firewood in his arms so it was easier to carry. "Come on," he said, turning to walk back toward the campfire, which had dwindled during his absence. "Dinner's almost ready." But he didn't hear her following; she remained rooted to the no-man's land between the forest's edge and their campsite. As he expected.

Gale calmly went about rebuilding the fire and checking on the soup. He thought it would be better if Madge approached the fire on her own, and could see that a campfire was just an ordinary, essential part of surviving outdoors. It would also be better if they were about to eat something tastier than this packaged soup. His lip curled in anticipatory disgust as he read the label, which identified it only as SOUP: NOURISHING, WITH PROTEIN. No doubt it was processed, artificial protein with a processed, artificial taste. He'd planned to overcome Madge's uneasiness around fire by enticing her with succulent, fresh roasted meat of some kind. She wouldn't have been able to resist such savory nourishment after their long hike. The deer's appearance had temporarily gotten his hopes up again, but a glance over his shoulder confirmed that Madge hadn't taken a single step closer. She'd burrowed her head so deep into her jacket's neck that only her eyes and forehead were visible. Every once in a while she swiveled to watch the forest, and then returned to studying the ground, which was the only way to avoid the bright glow of the fire. She seemed caught between two unappealing alternatives: a dark forest filled with unknown animals, and memories of the most traumatic experience she'd ever had. Gale felt a pang of guilt that he was the one presenting her with these scenarios, but quickly pushed it away. He had a plan. Sort of.

A gust of wind kicked up, causing Madge to shiver and retract even deeper into her jacket.

"Come on over here where it's warm," Gale called. He gestured to a spot on the log next to him.

Madge eyed the fire anxiously and stayed where she was. He half expected her to bolt the way the deer had, although where would she go?

"There's soup." Gale kept his tone even and hoped she didn't ask what type of soup it was. He poured the flimsy gray mess into two bowls and held them up so Madge could see.

She lifted her head incrementally out of her jacket's collar and visibly swallowed—promising, since it meant she was hungry—then looked nervously at their hiking clothes, strung to dry from fishing twine between two trees near the fire. Too bad that was the most action his fishing gear had seen on this trip.

"Are you sure the fire won't spread to our clothes?" she asked. "Or anywhere else?"

"It'll stay inside the rock circle." He set the bowls down and patted the log again. "This is the perfect spot, Madge: far enough away that the ashes won't fall on you, but close enough to warm up." He gestured at her head. "You don't want to sleep with wet hair, not in these temperatures."

Madge turned her suspicious gaze from the fire to him. "You planned this, didn't you? You lured me into the water so I'd have to warm up by the fire."

He raised his eyebrows. "That would have been a good plan. But believe it or not, I had _other_ reasons for wanting to swim." He winked at her and was pleased to see a smile flicker over her face before she bit it back. He smiled for her, amused as ever at how she still could be caught off guard with a simple reminder of how she affected him.

After a few more moments of hesitation, Madge slowly shuffled over until she was close enough for him to reach up and rest his hand on her waist. With a gentle tug, he got her to join him on the log. Straddling it to face him instead of the fire, Madge took a shaky breath. He caught her other hand and waited until she looked at him, uneasiness still etched in her features. Her hands were icy so he started a gentle massage to get the blood circulating.

"You'll be okay, Madge," he said, hoping his tone and his eyes could convey how firmly he believed that.

Madge smiled nervously and then cautiously turned to look at the fire. Muscles still taut, she didn't speak and seemed to be in a trance, staring at the flickering oranges and yellows. The flames were hypnotic against the surrounding blackness. It was difficult to look at anything else, though Gale kept his attention on Madge. He gripped her hands more tightly, reminding her that he was here with her.

Still watching the fire, Madge asked in a faraway tone, "How can you see a fire and not think about that night?"

"I do think about it," he said quietly. Images of Madge's burning house burst into his memory and he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. Then he forced them open and focused on the charred soup pot perched above the flames of the campfire. That soup pot had nothing to do with the destruction of 12. Their campsite didn't, either, though any kind of charring would always make him remember lifting the remains of the metal Seam house roofs the day after the bombing, searching for survivors. They didn't find many, and for some of those people his eyes were probably the last set to grace their bodies.

He waved some smoke away and, still thinking about those victims, continued. "Forgetting would seem wrong, to the people who didn't make it." Like Madge's own parents, who were no doubt on her mind. He could only imagine how hard it would be to be haunted by having found their bodies that night, the way Madge had. He hurried on to get to his point. "But the thing is, fires also make me think about other things. Good memories."

"Like your dad?"

He smiled faintly, touched that she remembered his story about his father teaching him to make a fire on their first trips into the woods. "My dad, yeah. He could start a fire faster than anyone I knew, even under terrible conditions. I also think about bonfires at Seam parties, and how grateful I always was to warm up after hunting in the rain or finishing a shift in the mines. My mom had a sixth sense for when I'd be home and she'd have the fire in our stove going as soon as I walked in."

"I figure," he said after a pause, "that nearly everything has a good side and a bad side. Like fire. It can destroy, but it also can keep us warm and cook our dinner… You just have to be careful about the dangers and appreciate the good stuff." He let go of one of Madge's hands to pick up a long stick and used it to push one of the logs closer to the flame. "Same as with people," he added quietly, thinking again about how dangerous _he_ was. He still had a hard time believing Madge wanted to be with him despite knowing what he'd done during the war.

"That's true about people," Madge agreed, squeezing his other hand reassuringly. "And you should only spend time with the ones whose good stuff outweighs the other stuff."

"Right," he said grimly, thoughts drifting to Katniss again. While Madge saw more good than danger in him, that wasn't true for certain former Mockingjays. He squeezed Madge's hand back, partly out of gratitude that she wanted him in her life and partly to anchor himself to her.

"So," he said, trying to shake off the melancholy, "with fires, you've got the good side of one right now. Enough nights like this, maybe you can swap out some of the bad memories with good ones."

Madge made a noncommittal noise but seemed to be mulling over that possibility. She hadn't turned away from the flames yet, which he took as a sign of progress, and still seemed lost in her thoughts. In the meantime, Gale's stomach gurgled and he remembered they still needed to eat. He leaned down to pick up their bowls of soup and handed one to her.

"Sorry if it's no good," he said apologetically. "I thought we'd be dining on fresh meat."

Taking the bowl, Madge slipped her leg over the log so she could sit alongside Gale. "I'm sure it's fine," she said as she wrapped her fingers around the bowl. "Mmmmm. My favorite flavor: _hot._"

Pleased that the less-than-ideal Madge bait seemed be to working, he sampled a spoonful of the soup. Horrible. Tesserae tasted better. Uneasily, he watched Madge take a delicate sip from her spoon. She involuntarily scrunched her nose.

"That bad, huh?" he asked.

"Iss… 'ine," she said, holding the soup in her mouth without swallowing. She wore a pained expression.

"It is not fine." He took the bowl from her, annoyed that he wasn't serving her fresh meat. "You don't have to eat it."

Madge turned around to spit the soup out, gagging in the process. "But isn't this all we have for dinner?"

It was time to pull out the last resort. "I did bring something else for later tonight," he admitted reluctantly. He'd hoped they'd be too full to want anything beyond whatever animal they'd successfully killed during their afternoon hunt. It felt like cheating to eat food he'd brought from home. Pawing through his pack, he located the ingredients and passed them to Madge.

She looked up at him with a confused smile. "You were listening when I told you about these?"

"They sounded so wrong I had to check with someone at work that they were real." To his horror, they were. His coworkers who'd grown up in the Capitol used to make them at nostalgia parties. And he knew Madge would love these abominations, especially since she'd sounded so curious when describing them to him on the phone a few weeks ago. He looked skeptically at the packages in Madge's lap. "I don't even remember what they're called or how to make them."

"S'mores," Madge supplied quickly, reaching for a stick from the firewood pile. "You toast a marshmallow over the fire and then put it with some chocolate between graham crackers. The marshmallow melts the chocolate and it makes a sandwich-y thing. So sandwiches for dinner… that's not so bad, right? Sounds like a meal to me." She speared a marshmallow with her stick and held it up triumphantly. "And this is definitely my kind of hunting."

Gale chuckled as he reached for a stick of his own. "We'll do better than this tomorrow." As he stabbed a marshmallow onto the stick, it occurred to him that even though he hadn't been able to lure Madge to the fire with fresh-cooked meat, a gooey mess of sugar might just be the perfect bait to entice her onto another of these trips.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry again for the delay. Thank you for being patient and for all the reviews!


	4. Lesson 4

**A/N:** How on earth did it get to be September already?! Last time I checked, it was July. :| My free time has shrunk to almost nothing lately and it's going to get worse, but I wanted to finish this and post the last two chapters together, so here you go. Thank you so much for all the reviews. :)

* * *

**Lesson #4: Be Prepared for Bad Weather**

**Or, Be Prepared to Talk**

"Gale." A pause. "_Gale_." A nudge in his shoulder this time.

He was _tired_. One of the many downsides of sharing a bedroom with a bunch of little kids was that they never let him get a peaceful night's sleep. Someone always had a stuffy nose or an upset stomach or needed to ask him some urgently unimportant question.

The nudge escalated into a jab. "Gale!"

Opening one eye, he spotted pale hair in the moonlight. It was Madge, not one of his siblings. And he was in a tent, not in his old house in the Seam.

"Madge, I'm too tired right now," he mumbled and turned over to get comfortable again. Normally he would never turn her down, but that strenuous hike and their "swim" had exhausted him more than he'd expected, and filling up on sugary goop for dinner left him weirdly hungry. No wonder he'd thought he was back in the Seam. He felt the way he used to after a day in the mines. He barely even remembered stumbling into the tent after stomping out the campfire. Well, he'd sleep now, and then tomorrow he would be _all_ over Madge. She wouldn't know what to do with him. Maybe they could take another clothing-optional swim before the hike back home. He was sure he'd be able to convince her…

"Wake _up_," Madge hissed, shaking his shoulder this time. The insistence in her voice more than the shaking made him sit up.

"What?" he asked irritably. She clearly didn't want what he thought she wanted and nothing else was worth waking up for.

"It's really windy outside," she said in a worried tone. "I think one of the trees is going to fall on us. I heard creaking."

Gale listened. Since he'd drifted off, the wind had noticeably picked up, accentuated by the occasional creak of wood straining. The sides of the tent strained and flapped as a gust streamed by. The wind did sound loud, like standing near a train whooshing past in the opposite direction. He peered at Madge in the dark. Eyes wide, she seemed alert and terrified, bundled tightly in her jacket and looking anxiously to him for reassurance.

Partially unzipping the tent's door, he poked his head out and studied the sky. Then he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped outside, holding a hand out to Madge. Tentatively, she joined him, eyes trained on the nearby trees. The leaves and branches rustled in the wind, but the clothes he and Madge had worn into the lake were still securely fastened to the fishing line, occasionally swaying.

"Everything sounds louder inside the tent," he explained to Madge in a low tone, squeezing her hand. "I never had one in 12 and my first night using this tent here in 2, I heard this really intense snorting and pawing. I was positive a bear was rooting around my campsite. Absolutely positive. But when I actually got out of the tent to see, it turned out to be a possum."

"Really?" Madge sounded surprised, but not exactly comforted.

He tugged her closer and wrapped her in a hug. Leaning his head backward to look at the sky, he kept talking. "See the stars?" She tipped her head up as well, so he continued. "No clouds. That plus the wind means a new weather system is moving in—it _is_ windier now, you were right about that."

They watched the stars together for a few moments. Gale still wasn't used to these stars; the constellations matched the ones he remembered from 12, but at the higher elevations in District 2 he felt like he was closer to everything in the sky. Like he could reach up and grab a handful of stars. Maybe fashion them into a necklace for Madge…

He was distracted by another strong gust, which caused one of the trees to creak.

Madge immediately turned in the direction of the sound. "Did you hear that? What if it falls over on us?"

"Could happen," he acknowledged, much to Madge's alarm. "But," he added, pointing to ground below the cluster of trees visible in the moonlight, "see all those fallen branches and that other debris? And that log we sat on near the fire? There was a monster windstorm a couple of weeks ago; it already knocked down the weak branches and trees." He kissed the top of her head. "It might rain and get colder in a few hours when the new system gets here, but that's why we have the tent. We'll be fine."

Madge hugged him and rested her head against his chest. He ran his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm and listened to her breathe. The wind, although not strong, had some bite. Winter wasn't far away. He was grateful they'd at least squeezed in this trip before the season ended. Hopefully the weather tomorrow cooperated enough to let them catch some fish for breakfast, even if it wasn't warm enough for another swim. He looked wistfully toward the lake, where the moon illuminated a thin slice of water.

"I feel like I'm a burden to you, Gale," Madge mumbled into his chest. "I don't know anything."

"How could you know this stuff unless we came out here?" he murmured, still watching the wind send tidy waves over the lake's surface. They'd already talked about how she couldn't expect herself to know everything on her first trip. He just had to be patient; eventually it would sink in.

Madge took a half-step back and looked up at him, concern in her eyes. "No, it's that everything else we do together feels equal. This is… I'll never know as much as Katniss. All this outsidey, hunting stuff was something you guys did as partners, but I'm just… dead weight. It's my fault the deer ran away. And the wind—which is just air, which is _nothing_, I_ know_ that—scared me so much I couldn't sleep. I'm just… a drag on you."

He cursed himself for not having predicted she would react this way and hurried to correct her impressions. "Madge." He clasped her arms and held her gaze so she would understand how seriously he meant what he was about to say. "You're not a burden. So you'll probably never be as good a hunter as Katniss was—do you know how thankful for that I am? It means you're not starving. I want you to have some basic outdoor survival skills, but I hope to God there's no need for it."

Madge peered back at him, silently digesting his words. He hated the idea of her feeling bad about herself and added, "The kind of survival skills you already have—how to start over after losing your parents and your home, how to keep greedy, power-hungry bastards in line so we don't end up with another Snow—are so important, I wouldn't trade them for all the hunting ability in the world. Those are the skills you need for the actual world we live in. The stuff you're learning now is just in case."

She didn't protest, which he took as a good sign. He brushed away a lock of hair the wind had blown into her eyes. "I shouldn't have made such a big deal about the outdoor survival stuff," he admitted. "What I really want from you is this. Trips like this. Whenever I'm out here on my own I can't wait to tell you about everything. But how can I describe how good it feels to wash all the trail grime off in a mountain lake and then warm up by a fire? Or what the wind sounds like in the trees when you're trying to sleep? I want you here with me so you _know_."

Madge studied him thoughtfully. "That's why I like for you to come to concerts with me. I love them and I want to share that with you."

"I know," he said with a nod. "That's why I go." Even though he didn't appreciate them in the same way Madge did. Mostly he liked seeing her so enraptured. It didn't hurt that after the concerts she usually directed that rapture toward him.

He was pleased to see Madge smile, though it didn't last long. Something was still on her mind. He raised his eyebrows. "What else, Madge?"

"Well," she said, pushing her hands into her jacket pockets, "if you just want me to come on trips with you, do I really have to learn to hunt?"

Her question caught him off guard. She didn't want to hunt? "I still want you to be able to survive in the forest, Madge," he said slowly. But he was thrown. He'd been prepared for Madge to have a tantrum about something or to feel insecure by comparing herself to Katniss. Those were practically a given. But Madge not wanting to hunt hadn't crossed his mind. She'd agreed to come on this trip with the express purpose of _learning to hunt_, hadn't she?

Madge swallowed and asked, "Couldn't I… learn the vegetarian version of how to survive in the forest?"

He couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Vegetarian," he repeated in a flat tone. The word felt foreign on his tongue.

Taking a step backwards, Madge looked at him with the expression she got when she was serious about something. "I don't think I have it in me to kill anything. Gale, that deer… It was beautiful. I've never seen one up close before. I didn't know how graceful they were, and it was just looking for dinner, same as us. After it left, I realized I was glad it got away before we could hurt it." She looked down at the ground and then across the lake to a small boulder field. "You said tomorrow we'd hunt something smaller like marmots, but I don't want to do that, either. How could I kill something that cute? The marmot we saw on the way up here looked like Blobby Bobby." At his confused expression she mumbled, "My favorite stuffed animal toy when I was a kid."

Gale blinked and stared back at her, trying to decide how to respond. She seemed to be worried about disappointing him, and honestly he did feel a twinge of disappointment. That is, until he tried to picture Madge twisting a rabbit's neck or gutting a deer. He couldn't see it. At least not yet. Even during the war, she apparently never hit that stage of hunger that would have overcome her town-borne, mayor's daughter squeamishness, and he wasn't about to wish that level of hunger on her now. He'd have to figure out another way to get her interested in hunting. He wondered too if Madge was—unconsciously, maybe?—trying to avoid being compared to Katniss, reasoning that if she didn't hunt at all then there would be nothing to compare. He couldn't think of a way to ask her that, though.

As he peered back at her, watching him in her earnest, worried way, he decided this wasn't the time to pressure her into hunting. She'd already pushed herself so far today: she'd come on this trip, she'd braved the fire, and from the heaviness of the bags under her eyes, hadn't even slept yet.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "We'll stick with… vegetarian… survival lessons. For now." He refrained from pointing out that using snares didn't usually require _active_ killing. He could explain that nuance later. As long as Madge was willing to join him on multi-day trips, he would have ample time to show her how natural hunting could be. Ways to catch animals without causing needless suffering. Cyclical nature of life and all that. He didn't need to cram everything into one weekend, and he especially didn't want to say anything she might interpret as him missing Katniss as a hunting partner.

Madge narrowed her eyes at him, apparently not thrilled with his "for now" qualifier but not willing to push it since she'd essentially gotten what she wanted. "Okay," she said suspiciously. "Good."

She still seemed uncomfortable, but didn't say anything else. Gale pulled her back into an embrace, unwilling to tolerate any more distance—physical or mental—between them. "I think," he said into her hair as he hugged her, "we just compromised."

He felt Madge laugh into his chest, thankfully defusing the lingering tension. "Imagine that," she agreed in muffled tones. Then he felt her shiver as the wind kicked up around them, sending more of her hair flying into his eyes and causing the fabric on their jackets to flap. She tightened her grip on him.

"C'mon," he said. "It's freezing out here and you must be tired." As he steered her back into the tent, he checked the sky again and saw clouds approaching from the west. Rain probably, though they were at a high enough elevation and it was late enough in the season that the clouds could also mean snow.

Thinking of snow reminded Gale of something he was embarrassed to have forgotten when they'd first stumbled into the tent in a tired haze earlier that night. "Hold on a sec," he told Madge as she sleepily moved to climb into her sleeping bag. He unzipped both of their sleeping bags and explained, "I put new zippers in our bags this morning. New special warming feature. It could get pretty cold tonight."

He'd made it so their sleeping bags could zip together to form one large bag for them to share. "Gotta have the right gear for all conditions," he said as he held out the double-bag to Madge. He was pleased to see that she looked impressed.

"Warning feature, huh?" she asked with a smile. "So this arrangement is purely for sharing body heat?"

"There _may_ be some side benefits," he acknowledged as he slid next to her into the double-bag. Within seconds Madge snuggled up against him and nuzzled her head into the curve of his neck. Her favorite spot, where she fit perfectly. She murmured something that sounded like "love you" and he perked up, keen on the prospect of some of those side benefits, until he realized from the droop in Madge's body that sleep had already pulled her away.

With a soft kiss to her lips, he tucked his arms around her and burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag. He was warm, he had Madge all to himself, and they had a mountain and a lake as their playground. Not too shabby. So fine, sleep could win.

For now.


	5. Lesson 5

**Lesson #5: The Best Way to Learn is to Teach**

**Or, It Takes a Village**

They took another trip the following weekend with Gale's family, getting an earlier start and not hiking quite as far. Even though there wouldn't be as many animals to trap closer to the district's borders, Gale reasoned that there would be enough game for the rudimentary Intro to Hunting lesson he had in mind. Posy was strong for a six-year old, but Madge had pointed out that if he wanted Posy to go on more trips they shouldn't wear her out.

Posy lacking energy didn't seem to be a problem so far, Gale observed. She'd practically bounced her way up the mountain. He needed to put more weight in her backpack on the next trip. And now she was flitting around like a hummingbird as she and Rory assembled the tents. Madge, with her newfound expertise, was instructing them. Posy's happy chatter and Madge's patient explanations occasionally floated over to the cooking pit where Gale was teaching Vick how to start a fire from scratch. Their mom was on the other side of the campsite, purifying water from the creek that fed the lake.

"I think I got it this time," Vick breathed softly, his eyes fixed on the small flame burning a pile of dried lichen atop the kindling. Like Madge, fires upset Vick after the bombing of 12. To help Vick, Gale wanted to try a lesson in fire-building; let Vick see that he could be the one in control of the flames.

Gale rearranged a few of the twigs. "Good work. Now we have to make sure it doesn't go out. Remember when Posy was a baby and how careful we had to be when we held her? Dad used to tell me that starting a fire was like a taking care of a baby—you have to be gentle and always keep an eye on it." He glanced at his brother, who'd frozen at the prospect of a tidbit of information about their father. Gale blew gently on the little flame until it jumped a few inches in height and then added, "You know, when Dad taught me to make a fire, the baby he was talking about was you."

"Really?"

"You weren't even walking yet. Just crying, sleeping, pooping, and puking."

Vick wore the ghost of an embarrassed smile and then shook it off as he looked back at his little fire. "So Dad taught you all this stuff?"

"Most of it. He was going to show you guys, too, when you were old enough…" If their father's time hadn't been cut short. Gale still remembered feeling like he'd been cheated out of something on his first solo trip into the forest after the memorial service, and how angry he'd been at not knowing more of his father's tricks. The anger had been easier than facing the black hole of emptiness, or the fear that he could very well lose more of his family if he didn't find a way to line the cupboards with more than stale tesserae.

"I figured out other things on my own, or with Katniss," Gale added, bracing himself for the stab of pain that usually accompanied mentioning her. But it didn't hit. Had he found a Katniss-memories safe zone?

Vick glanced over at Madge, Rory, Posy, and the tents. "So… is Madge your hunting partner now? Like Katniss was?"

"No," Gale said firmly. "Totally different." Not the least of which because Madge had no interest in hunting, which he didn't want to mention because he still hoped to change her mind. Also, he and Madge did a lot of things in the woods that he and Katniss hadn't, and, well, he wasn't going to get into that with Vick, either. "Madge is still learning. I want her, and you guys, to know some of what I know about hunting."

Vick frowned. "But Madge got a head start last weekend. Will we be able to catch up?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Gale said lightly, not letting on what an understatement that was. "We just covered the basics. And on Sunday it rained." He let his tone imply that the poor weather had been a disappointment, when actually he had no complaints whatsoever about sleeping in and waiting out the storm. Going vegetarian had meant they hadn't needed to rush to hunt anything, although it also meant they were pretty damn hungry by the time they got home. He hadn't said anything at the time, but he did notice that Madge ate seconds and thirds of the very carnivorous feast they enjoyed when they got back to a real kitchen.

Vick studied Gale for a few seconds and then slowly smiled. "Well, I'm glad we could all come out this weekend. You know, for the lessons."

Before Gale could respond, he spotted a blur racing towards him and Vick: Posy. "Gale!" she shouted as she leapt over a large rock. "Look at the tents! I put mine together _way_ faster than Rory did!"

"Watch it, Pose!" Vick shouted, standing to shield the fledgling fire from his whirlwind sister. She darted around him and jumped on Gale, toppling him from his squat into a sprawling sit.

"Did Vick make this fire?" Posy asked. Without waiting for an answer, she plowed ahead and directed her bright gray eyes toward Gale. "When can I make one?"

"When you're as old as Vick," Gale said, quickly moving to tickle her to fend off the inevitable protest about how unfair that was. Posy shrieked and tried to squirm away.

Rory and Madge joined them a few seconds later, and Rory wasted no time contradicting Posy. "She only finished first because her tent wasn't as confusing as mine," he griped. "If Madge hadn't shown us what to do, we'd still be messing with them."

"Madge has a gift with tents," Gale said with a wink at her.

"Don't you forget it," she shot back, smiling playfully. Diplomatically she added, "Rory's tent had more parts."

Rory beamed for a moment before remembering he was above competing with his little sister. Crossing his arms, he asked Gale in a business-like tone, "What's next?"

"Dinner!" Posy gasped from Gale's side, still recovering from her tickling-induced laughing fit. He tickled her again.

Hazelle joined them, carrying their canteens and a small tin pail. The canteens meant that she'd finished purifying the creek water, but Gale didn't recognize the pail. She set the canteens down and glanced at Gale. "I take it you haven't set any snares yet?" He nodded; he'd wanted to set the camp up first. "So we'll be fishing for dinner," she continued. "I dug these grubs and worms for bait." His mother held out the tin pail to show everyone its writhing contents.

Rory said what they were all thinking. "You know how to fish, Mom?"

She smiled. "Your father and I spent a lot of time in the forest before this one came along." She touched the top of Gale's head gently, the way she used to when he was only a few feet tall. "I think I remember the basics." Raising her eyebrows at Gale she said, "Bait, line, hook? Endless waiting?"

He nodded mutely. Why had this never occurred to him? He'd assumed his mother was good at skinning the game he brought home all those years because that was his parents' routine: Dad hunted, Mom cooked the bounty.

Madge seemed to be just as surprised as everyone else, watching Hazelle with wide eyes. "Do you know how to hunt, too?"

"Enough to get by. I wouldn't say I'm particularly good. And it's been a long time." She shrugged and leaned over to pull Posy to her feet. "I stopped when we had kids; it was too risky for both of us to go. Risky to talk about, even. But before that, well, we really enjoyed having that time together."

Madge made eye contact with Gale; he could practically see the wheels in her mind churning. Hunting in Katniss's shadow was one thing, but taking after Hazelle was a hook that might work.

Turning her gaze to Hazelle, Madge took a step forward and announced, "I want to learn to fish."

Gale smiled at the resolution in her voice. This was it, the nudge Madge needed. And if the standard his mother applied to her hunting ability was "enough to get by," then he could see Madge latching onto that as another way to avoid comparing herself to a top-notch hunter like Katniss. Hopes rising further, he thought ahead to dinner when they cooked the fish they'd catch; nothing beat the taste of fresh lake trout. Madge would be hooked on fishing in no time. And from there maybe she would give snares a try…

"I want to learn to fish, too," Posy suddenly declared, joining Madge like they were both valiant volunteers for a military mission. Then she rested her arms on her hips and stared challengingly at Vick and Rory. "Girls against boys. I bet we can catch more fish than you."

"We have _Gale_," Vick said dismissively.

"We have _Mom_," Posy countered.

"How about," Madge jumped in, "Gale and your mom are disqualified? They'll be our teachers."

"That's fine," Hazelle said, "but we only need as many fish as we can eat on this trip." She leveled a stern look at her daughter. "_Posy_." But Posy had already started running toward the shoreline.

Vick looked torn between chasing after her and tending his fire, so Gale released him with a nudge. "The fire's big enough now. You can keep an eye on it from over there." With a last tender glance at the fire, Vick rose and bolted after Posy. Rory rolled his eyes at Gale, apparently above such childish displays of enthusiasm. But he couldn't quite hide his smile or the spring in his gait as he followed the others to the water.

Hazelle started walking as well, though she paused to look at Gale, who was still sprawled on the ground near the fire. "I could have said something about hunting when you were old enough to not blurt anything out on market day, but it didn't seem important. Then after your father died, I just couldn't..."

She smiled apologetically at him, but he didn't begrudge her for keeping a little slice of her life with his father to herself. What else did she have? And she'd always been generous with stories about their father around the house and the Seam, ensuring the younger kids felt like they knew him, too.

"No, I get it," he assured his mother. He had a private streak, too. But what he hadn't thought about before was how his mother losing his father would be like what Gale felt like when he thought Madge had died, multiplied and intensified in ways he still probably couldn't even appreciate. The thought made his stomach clench.

Hazelle smiled gently at him and then shifted her gaze to Madge. "You ready to take on the boys, Madge?"

Madge smiled. "I'll be there in a second. I want to talk to Gale."

"I'll keep Posy occupied," Hazelle promised before turning to walk to the shore where Rory, Vick, and Posy were splashing and chasing each other with scoops of mud.

Gale, still reeling from his mother's revelation, looked up to find Madge standing over him. Smiling in her gentle way, she reached down and pulled him to his feet. Her hands were warm and soft but firm. A pink hue tinged her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and her hair was still mussed from helping with the tents. She looked healthy and happy and busy and, best of all, here now with him and his family, where she belonged.

"You all right?" she asked.

He answered with a kiss. A _stop everything and enjoy this right now_ kiss.

Madge did—stop and enjoy it. He could always count on her for that. But eventually she pulled back to peer at him. "Are you really that excited I want to learn to fish?" She spoke lightly, though he thought he sensed an undercurrent of hurt in her voice.

"No." That wasn't it at all. He shook his head. "No, Madge, I can't lose you again."

"What?"

"After the bombing, when I thought you were dead," he said, running a thumb gently along her jawline. "Don't die on me again."

"I'm not planning on it…" Madge looked at him like he still wasn't making any sense. "Where is this coming from, Gale?"

He was momentarily disoriented at the prospect of having to explain this to her, that it wasn't completely obvious. He was so used to her knowing so much about him now—good and bad—it was hard to remember she didn't know as much about his pre-Madge life. "I was thinking about my dad," he said. "When he died, I didn't even mourn, just high-tailed it to the woods to hunt. We needed food, I needed to trade, that's all there was to it. Then Posy was born a week later and none of us could do anything other than just get through each day, each week, each month. It was probably a year before I even took a few minutes to sit down at home without feeling like there was something urgent I was supposed to be doing." He glanced in the direction of the lake, where his mother had rounded up the kids and was handing out fishing bait. "I never really understood how my mom must have missed him until now. Like ripping a part of your body away." An important part. The innards, soft and vulnerable.

Madge squinted at him in confusion. "So… thinking about how your parents were hunting partners—"

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with hunting," he interrupted. "I'm talking about losing your life partner. And how that would feel. And how I get it now."

It took Madge a moment, but when she processed what he was saying a slow-moving smile crept over her face until it became a sunburst. Then she pulled him in for a long kiss. He could do this forever, and got the feeling she could too.

"You can't die on me again, either," she ordered in a fierce whisper.

"Deal." He smiled at her until he started to feel in danger of dragging her off behind a tree to really show her how much she meant to him. The sounds of his brothers and sister calling to him and Madge to hurry up brought him back to the task at hand. He said sheepishly to Madge, "We're getting a little morbid."

"Right," Madge agreed, taking his hand as they started to walk toward the lake. "Enough morbidity. Let's go _kill some fish_."

He half-laughed. He'd walked into that, but she was missing a vital point. "Madge. Hunting is all about the natural cycles of life. Animals die so we can thrive—"

She reached up and held a finger to his lips. "Hold on. We don't want the others to miss this lecture. Don't they also need to hear about cycles of life? As part of their own hunting education?"

He full out laughed this time and threw his arm around her shoulder, fully aware that she was just trying to weasel out of a lecture. "Sure," he said, "and you can explain how killing fish is allowed as a _vegetarian_ survival technique."

"I like to eat fish, I should be able to catch one," Madge said nonchalantly. "And fishing seems less grisly than killing an animal on land."

Gale nodded, willing to accept her vegetarianism amnesia with only one final dig. "And… it's okay to kill fish because they aren't fluffy or cute?"

Madge shot him a stop-teasing-me look. He tugged her to his chest for a kiss to let her know he didn't mean any harm. Judging by the way Madge relaxed into him, she seemed to be in a forgiving mood.

"No promises I'm going to like fishing or want to try other types of hunting," she warned.

"Fair enough," he said with a grin. He was ready to let Posy take over persuading Madge anyway. He sped his pace and tugged Madge with him. "Come on. Posy's probably figured out a way to cheat or get a head start. Can't let you girls win."

* * *

End

* * *

**A/N:** I remember reading in one of my learn-to-write books that writing from one point of view is simpler than two, but I have to say that, in this piece at least, that wasn't my experience. I'm used to writing these two characters in alternating POVs and this little story was challenging in only being from Gale's perspective. I kept wanting Madge to chime in! All part of the learning process I guess. Thanks again to all who've read. Reviews appreciated!


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